Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. Wood started to his feet. Something in her lack of embarrassment irritated him. It’s best. "Well, my pretty dears," he added, "—to see your husband, eh? You must make the most of your time. Mr.
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